


she's my high lady

by leafygreenturtle



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Anal Beads, Anal Fisting, BDSM, Begging, Bondage, Chastity Cage, Cock Rings, F/M, Female receiving oral, Femdom, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Pegging, Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Smut, Strap-Ons, Sub Rhys, Teasing, dom feyre, feyre wearing a crown while she fucks rhys, gagging, little bit of degradation, lots of pegging, wing sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafygreenturtle/pseuds/leafygreenturtle
Summary: just shameless smut. dom feyre and sub rhys and lots of pegging
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	she's my high lady

**Author's Note:**

> this turned out a lot kinkier and longer than i planned for it to be lol. oops. enjoy!

She stepped back and admired her work. Rhys was fully naked, on his hands and knees, back slightly arched as he pushed out his ass in a silent demand for her to touch him. His wings were splayed wide, completing the picture.

She’d slipped a small metal ring over his cock that would keep him from coming before she wanted him to, and he strained against it now. But he was perfectly still, perfectly patient as he waited for her. She had thought about slipping a blindfold on him too, but she’d wanted to see his eyes as he came undone before her.

Instead, she’d gagged him with a thick, nine inch dildo, and when she was done, strapped it behind his head so he couldn’t push it out. He’d gagged, choking and sputtering on it as he tried to keep it inside, but she’d kept it shoved in and merely waited until he relaxed his throat enough to take all of it. Even now, any small movement that jostled him had him choking on it again, and she it was an effort not to reach a hand down between her legs to relieve the ache she felt at the image of him.

She was naked herself, save the crown of glittering stars and darkness on her head, the only request Rhys had had when she’d shared this idea with him.

_His eyes were amused. “You want to tie me up and have your wicked way with me?”_

_“Do you want to let me?”_

_“It would be my pleasure.” Again, that wicked grin that made her core pound. She knew he could scent it, and his grin widened._

_She only said, “Good.”_

_Then, “Can I do anything I want?”_

_His eyes sparked, but his brows raised. “Now I’m interested to see what you have planned. Yes, anything. If it becomes too much, I’ll safeword.”_

_She nodded, her heartbeat a raging, thunderous thing. The anticipation of this would keep her awake all night. To have such a powerful male at her mercy—it was an intoxicating feeling._

_“On one condition,” he said._

_“Oh?”_

_His eyes sparked with that familiar wicked light. “Wear the crown while you do it._

_She smirked. “Fine.”_

Now, kneeling before her, Rhys’s eyes were molten. Hungry, with a kind of raw desire she so rarely saw.

She knelt behind him, so he couldn’t see her when she reached for his wings and stroked two fingers down the thin, sensitive membrane. He tensed, a muffled sound of pleasure coming from behind the gag.

She stroked again, and again, and his arms trembled where they held him up, his composure slipping just a little bit. She smiled.

Good.

She wanted him writhing and begging beneath her by the time she was done.

So she withdrew her hand from his wings, and reached for the small bottle of oils on the table next to them. She used a small spark of her magic to heat the oils so they would feel pleasant as she massaged them into his hole.

He made a small sound of pleasure and arched his back as the first of her fingers slid inside him, and she thrust it in and out, working him open so she could fit another finger inside.

Rhys slumped to his elbows, another deep groan, muffled by the gag, escaping him. His cock strained, bright red where it remained inside the ring, and he thrust his hips forward, trying to grind into the floor.

She used her magic to pin his hips in place. “No moving,” she reminded him. He just thrust his hips back, pushing into her, urging her fingers deeper inside him.

So she obliged, slipping three fingers in now, as his body shook and trembled under her. She reached for the strap-on on the floor next to her, and slid into it, adjusting the straps and buckles.

When she looked up, she saw that Rhys had turned his head to watch her. She smirked, and said, “Turn around.”

He did, and she didn’t waste any time before she thrust into him in one smooth motion. He cried out, the sounds he made louder now than they had been before, and pushed back into her, rocking onto her dick. She reached for his wings again, running her hands over them, coaxing him towards a climax he could not reach, not with the ring still around his cock.

She glanced down to it, his proud member straining against the metal ring, and saw pre cum pooling at the tip, dribbling down. Panting a little, she slid out of him, and walked around so that she was facing him.

Rhys’s eyes were glossy, hazy with lust, and he had to fight to focus on her.

“What’s wrong?” she crooned. “Do you want to come?” She reached a hand down to his cock, and brushed a thumb over the tip. His face screwed up, and his hips jerked forward into her touch.

She laughed. She touched the gag in his mouth with a finger, feeling the drool that had gathered there, slipping onto his chin, his chest. She wiped the wetness pooling at the tip of his cock, mixed it with the drool pooling from his mouth, and smeared it on his cheeks.

His eyes went molten.

She smiled to herself at the messy picture that greeted her. Hair tousled, face and chin and chest smeared with spit and cum.

“You look so pretty,” she said, and she could have sworn he moaned at the praise. “Drooling onto the floor from the cock in your mouth, with your cum smeared on your cheek.”

Unable to answer her with the huge plastic dildo in his mouth, he only moaned again.

Her fingers again went to the gag in his mouth, and she twisted it slightly inside him. The movement made him gag, but she smirked, pushing the dildo further into him, making him take it. His eyes teared up as he was forced to once again swallow the cock that was shoved into his throat, that had nowhere to go, thanks to the strap around his head.

She waited for the choking to subside, and then reached to take the gag off.

He was panting heavily through his nose as she unbuckled the gag from behind his head. His mouth was stretched out and bruised from having had it in him for so long, further adding to the image of his messy, undone self.

She didn’t pull it out immediately, instead fucking his mouth with it for a few moments. The noises he made, wet and filthy, drove her insane, and for a moment, she could do nothing but watch him, breathless, as he bobbed his head up and down the length of the dildo.

She pulled it out at last with a wet slurp, a line of spit still connecting him to it, and he panted. He shifted to sit up on his knees.

His voice was rough, and so thick and guttural as he moaned her name, that she squeezed her thighs together.

“Feyre,” he said again, pleading. And she remembered that he hadn’t come yet, and an idea struck her.

“I’m going to take this off,” she said, brushing her thumb over the metal ring on his cock once more. He hissed out a breath, hands fisting on the floor beside him.

“But you’re not allowed to come,” she said.

His eyes flashed to her, but she only gave him a wicked smile. “You’re going to watch me. You’re not allowed to touch yourself.”

He didn’t say a word as she flipped open the ring, freeing his cock, but he groaned as she stroked her hand over him once, twice. She chuckled, the sound of it husky, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Eyes on me,” she reminded him. His eyes shot open just in time to watch her reach for the black dildo that had just been in his mouth. It was still slick and warm from being inside him, and she was so wet herself, that it was easy work to slide herself down on it.

And as she sank down on it, and Rhys groaned again at the sight of it, his hands still fisted at his sides, she opened her shields and flooded his side of the bond with the sensations she felt.

Every thought, every feeling she felt as she bobbed up and down that plastic dick, she sent down the bond.

Rhys whimpered, as his fists turned white-knuckled.

“Feyre,” he moaned. “ _Please.”_

“Come touch me,” she gasped, still moving. He shifted forward on his knees, and she grabbed his hand and put it on the slick bundle of nerves between her legs.

He hissed out a breath at the wetness he found there, and he circled that spot, drawing her closer and closer to that edge.

“Feyre,” he moaned, and the sound of her name on his lips sent her flying over that edge.

She was breathing hard, legs shaking slightly as she came down from her high, but the look in Rhys’s eyes sent heat rushing through her again.

“I wonder how long you can last,” she mused, running a finger down his length.

He whimpered, and closed his eyes. “Please,” was all he said.

“Please what?” she coaxed.

“Please fuck me.”

She grinned at the words, and leaned back once more. “Your wish is my command.”

She reached for the cock ring once more, and slipped it on him.

At the desperate, pleading look he gave her, she only said, “You said you wanted me to fuck you. You didn’t say anything about wanting to come.”

“Feyre,” he breathed, his voice turning into a whine.

“Hands and knees,” she said.

“ _Feyre.”_

“Hands and knees,” she said again. “If you make me say it again, you’re going to regret it.”

He twisted so that he was on his hands and knees, his back facing her. There was a faint rustling as she slipped into the strap on once more, and then she was pressing against the pucker of his ass.

She waited, using her silence to urge him.

“Please,” he said at last.

She pushed into him a little at that, and he tossed his head back, groaning.

“Please, Feyre, _please_ fuck me.”

She plunged into the hilt, earning a low growl of pleasure from him. A shudder went through her at the sound, but she started fucking him, setting a faster pace than before.

Rhys was panting, his fingers long since turned into talons that were clawing at the ground, searching for purchase. His cock was bright red, aching for release, and every thrust had him whimpering, pleading her name.

At long last, she pulled away from him, breathless from her own exertions, and flipped the cock ring free.

“Not yet,” she said. “I want you inside me first. Don’t come until I say.”

He nodded, eyes foggy and blown with lust as he watched her slide down on him, and he made a high, keening sound in plea as her felt her wetness and heat on him.

“Feyre, I can’t—please, I can’t—”

She slipped a thumb into his mouth, shutting him up. He closed his mouth around it, sucking it, biting it.

“If you want to come,” she said, gasping, “Make me come first.”

He whimpered again, but kept thrusting into her, slipping a hand down between her legs to rub the bundle of nerves there.

His eyes were tearing up, and his voice was wrecked as he pleaded her name again, and again, and she came for him in a shuddering wave.

Despite her orgasm, Rhys still didn’t come. “Tell me I can,” he grit out, his whole body tense with the effort of holding his release back. “I won’t come until you tell me.”

Feeling heady with power, she gripped the hair at the base of his neck and turned his head so she could whisper in his ear. “Come for me, Rhys.”

He spilled into her with a shuddering gasp, his orgasm endless. It seemed to last forever, and when he at last pulled out of her, he was still shaking, his body covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

Feyre leaned forward and kissed him. “You’re so beautiful,” she breathed.

His eyes were bright, his body relaxed—sated. Feyre smirked, and looked at the floor, where a few drops of his release had dripped out of her.

“You made a mess,” she said, and he followed her gaze. “Clean it up.”

Rhys’s eyes simmered. But he held her gaze as he lowered to his knees, and when she pushed his head down to the floor with a foot, he slid his tongue out and licked up the wetness on the floor.

When he was done, she didn’t move her foot from where it pressed down on his head, keeping his cheek pressed against the floor.

“Does it taste good?” she purred.

His voice was slightly muffled from his position as he replied, “Yes.”

“Should I make you eat your own come every time from now on?”

She could have sworn he shuddered at the words, the suggestion. When he didn’t answer, she chuckled.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Do you want to lick it off the floor every time too?”

At that, he made a low, pleading sound. “Please.”

“Hmm. Let’s see if we can put that tongue to better use,” she said.

With that, she lifted her foot off him and stood to retrieve something from a drawer again. She returned, holding it up. Rope.

“Want to be tied up?” she grinned.

“It’s not my choice, is it?” Though he looked far from displeased by the idea.

“You’re right,” she said sweetly. “It’s not. Get on the bed.”

He did, laying on his back, and he spread his arms for her, allowing her to tie each wrist to the headboard, and then each leg, so that when she was done, he was spread wide apart with all four limbs stretching away from him.

“Good?” she asked, tapping the snug binding at his wrist.

“Yes,” he said, breathless.

She moved so that she was facing the headboard of the bed, and sat on his face. A deep moan ripped from her throat as Rhys slid his tongue in her, and she felt him sucking the bundle of nerves between her legs. She ground down on his tongue moving relentlessly inside her, and gripped his hair, forcing his head deeper.

He obliged, tongue curling so deep in her she gasped out his name. This seemed to spur him on, and he worked faster, harder, to bring her to the edge. She was riding his face as she came on it, shouting his name.

When her orgasm resided, she shifted off him at last. His face was red from the constricted breathing, and his cheeks, nose and mouth were a sticky, wet mess. He tugged on his restraints, as if reminding her of them.

She took a moment to consider. How would she torment him next?

“You’ve been good,” she said, marking how his nostrils flared and smirking. Her finger traced the seam of his mouth and he opened for her. She slipped a finger in, thrusting it deep into his mouth until he gagged a little.

“So I’m going to give you a reward.” She withdrew her finger, taking the chance to spread his saliva across his lips, his chin. His eyes sparked, but he said nothing.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I want to fuck you,” he said, voice raw.

She raised her brows at him. “Tired of being fucked already, High Lord?”

His eyes gleamed with amusement, but he only said, “Well?”

“Fine,” she said. “Fuck me.”

She fought back a shiver at the predatory look that crossed his face as she undid his restraints, as he came over her, but she wasn’t done playing just yet.

Her hand searched the floor for the strap-on, and she brought it up between them.

“You can fuck me. But only if you do it in this.”

Surprise flared in his eyes. Surprise and—arousal.

“And will I get to come this time?”

“That’s for me to decide.” She glanced at the strap-on in her hand. “Put it on.”

He gave her an amused look, and then looked down at his own erection. He looked back at her, as if to say, _And what do you want me to do with this?_  
She pushed him off her and rummaged in a drawer for something. A moment later, she handed him a toy she’d bought the last time she’d shopped at that little store on the Sidra that sold a variety of other things besides just undergarments.

A chastity cage.

Rhys’s eyes simmered, but she could see the way the idea turned him on. She could see the submission beginning to creep into his eyes, his posture.

“Put them both on. And hurry. I’m waiting.”

Utterly obedient, he did as she ordered, and a moment later, he was wearing the strap-on, the color of it similar to the color of his own cock. His own cock was tucked beneath it, trapped inside the metal cage. Hard as granite and throbbing with desire and unsatisfied.

Drawing her attention back to the present, Rhys braced his hands on her hips and pushed in, and in, and in, until he was seated fully inside her.

She moaned, grabbing at his shoulders, his hair, his arms, anything that she could reach, as he thrust in again, and again, and Rhys was utterly unfaltering as he drove into her.

His hands went to her breasts, and he rolled a nipple between two fingers until it hardened, almost to the point of pain, and she gasped as he lowered his head to suck at it.

She brought his head back up with a hand on his hair. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

He licked his lips, and said, “Do you want me to stop?” And he looked so sex-crazed in that moment, utterly undone, hair perfectly tousled, mouth red and bruised, that she couldn’t resist any longer.

“No,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”

His hands gently squeezed her breasts, massaging them until he drew another moan from her, and his lips were on her neck, her ear, nipping and licking and biting.

The hand that wasn’t on her breast reached down between them, to that sensitive spot between her legs, and he stroked lightly, rolling and teasing that bundle of nerves.

She screamed, breathless and gasping, as her climax tore through her, and he kissed her through it, his body still moving, drawing out her pleasure.

When her release subsided, she glanced down at him. His body was a tightly wound spring, his cock red and straining against the metal cage.

Feyre ran a hand over the dildo he was wearing, slicking her fingers. She brought those fingers to his mouth, and he closed around them, sucking them clean.

She moaned softly, then withdrew her fingers.

Leaning forward, she unbuckled the strap on from him, and he stepped out of it. She took the metal chastity cage off him as well, until his naked and fully erect cock stood before them. She brushed a hand against the shaft of it, and he hissed, body bowing into her touch.

“I have one more thing I want to try.”

At his questioning look, she retrieved the last toy she wanted to play with. He sucked in a breath as she held up a string of anal beads.

“I’ve tried those only once before,” he said hoarsely.

“Oh?”

“I never came harder than I did then.”

“Let’s change that,” she said, the corners of her mouth quirking up. She ran a hand over his chest in a brazenly proprietary gesture, and he shuddered, going loose and pliant in her hands.

Without needing to be told this time, he got on his hands and knees, spreading his legs for her as she settled behind him. He was still slick from her previous attentions, but she still used the bottle of oils on him, and on the beads, and when he was pushing up against her impatiently, she swatted his ass.

“Patience is a virtue.”

He only groaned, pushing himself further back against her.

“Hmm. Ask nicely.”

“Will you please fuck me?” The words were tight, breathless. She’d never heard Rhys speak in that tone before—utterly submissive and mannered—, and was almost surprised there was no sass in the question. But he was too desperate for release now to care, she realized.

“So polite,” she purred. But she pushed the first of the beads into him, the smallest.

He groaned, arching his back and pushing against her again, and she pushed in another, and another.

He was grinding against the floor, pushing forward and back on her hand, and this time, she let him.

“Don’t come until I’ve put them all in.”

He nodded, but whimpered when he felt the largest of the beads pushing against his entrance. He was already stretched out to the maximum, and Feyre knew this one would hurt before it pleasured.

She pushed it in, but not all the way, so that the widest part of it was stretching out his hole. She kept it there, half-in, half-out, while he panted and pleaded.

She left it there while she leaned over him, stroking his cock.

“Please don’t,” he gasped. “I’m going to come.”

She ignored him, stroking him at the same pace. She brushed her thumb over the tip, squeezing slightly. He cried out, trying to move away from her, but there was nowhere to go.

“Hold it,” she said simply.

“Please stop,” he gasped. “Please. I can’t—“

She stopped, only to cup his balls, gently rolling them between her fingers.

He cried out again, this time a sharper, higher sound.

“Fight it,” she said. “You’re not allowed to come yet.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, twisting his body away from her as much as he could.

“Should I push the last bead in all the way?” she mused, more to herself than him. “Should I let you come?” Her hand never stopped stroking over him, her pace still slow. Almost soothing.

“Or should I watch you try to fight your body to wait for my permission?”

When he didn’t answer, she tugged on his balls. “Well? What do you think? Do you deserve to come?”

“If you say I do,” he gasped out.

She grinned, pleased with the answer. “And I say you do.”

With that, she shoved the rest of the last bead inside him, and he came immediately, shouting her name as his release swept through him.

When he at last opened his eyes, they were sleepy and lust-fogged. She couldn’t help herself. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth. Both of his cheeks, his chin, then his forehead.

“You’re so perfect,” she whispered. He only kissed her, taking her face in his hands and slipping his tongue in her mouth. She made a small, contented sound, but pulled away.

“Do you have another round left in you?”

He gave a surprised laugh. “You’re absolutely insatiable.”

She grinned. “Well?”

“Anything for you, darling.”

She tried not to look too excited.

A moment later, she had the strap-on on again, and Rhys was so slippery and lubed up already that she needed only to slide herself in him before he was swearing low under his breath and hardening for her. She fucked him for a few minutes, but pulled out before he could come. If he only had one left in him, this wasn’t how she wanted him to come.

“I’m going to put the beads in you again,” she said. His poor little hole was gaping wide open, and wet from the oils she’d used. The skin there was raw and red from having been brutally fucked so many times, and it was significantly more stretched out now than it had been when she first entered him. This time, the beads went in easier, the largest bead only drawing a wince of pain from him before it went in.

She added more lube to his widened hole, until the largest of the beads was at risk of falling out. She pushed it deeper inside him, and he groaned, the sound igniting her core.

“If you let a single one of these beads fall out, I’ll punish you, and you won’t like it.”

He clenched his asshole immediately, and she almost laughed. She wanted them to slip out, wanted him to accidentally let them fall so that she could punish him. But she was equally pleased with the idea of him clenching and tightening his ass for however long she wanted to keep the beads in him, out of fear that they would slip out if he let his guard down for a moment.

She came around him so that she was in front of him, still wearing the strap on she’d fucked him with.

“Suck me off,” she said, and his breath hitched. He looked up at her, at the cock that had just been in his ass, and put his mouth on it.

He groaned around it as he took it deep into his mouth, tasting himself on it. Feyre pumped her hips, fucking his throat with it, and his hands grasped her legs for balance.

She went faster, making him choke, and almost came herself at the sight of him like that, on his knees, eyes wide as he looked up at her, throat raw as she fucked him.

“Can you taste your ass on this?” she asked. “Does it taste sweet?”

He moaned, and she fucked him harder, spurred by the sight of him unable to answer her with the cock in his mouth.

“Are you clenching your ass to try to keep all the beads in? Is your loose, stretched out hole struggling to keep them in?”

He moaned again, eyes rolling back in his head a little.

“Don’t let me distract you,” she said, just as she gripped his hair in a tight fist, and yanked hard, driving the fake cock deeper in him than she had before, as his throat tilted back.

His moans were endless, one continuous sound of pleasure.

But still he kept the beads inside, his body obeying her.

She slipped out of his mouth, and he gasped for breath, drool spilling down his mouth onto his chest. She reached a hand down to smear it there, and he groaned a sound that almost sounded like her name.

She moved so that she was behind him again, and gently tugged on the leather loop that served as a handle for the string of beads inside him. She tugged it again, so that the largest of the beads pushed against his hole.

A strangled cry left his mouth as she pulled it free, and the next bead pushed against his entrance. She twisted it, pulling and pushing, fucking him with it as his ass clenched around the string of beads, trying to cling onto it.

She freed that one too, then the next, and he cried out her name as each one was pulled out, coming in a violently strong wave of pleasure. She stroked his cock as he came, and covered the floor beneath him in sticky wetness.

When he finally stopped coming, his body long since slumped on the ground, she tapped his hips again.

“Up.”

He braced himself on his hands and knees again, pushing his ass out for her.

She ran her hands over it, squeezing, groping, admiring the beautiful, sleek planes of his body. The powerful muscle beneath.

Her fingers ran gently over his bruised and worn out hole, and he hissed out a breath as she poked and prodded sensitive skin.

“Gape your pretty little asshole for me.”

His cock hardened at the words, and her eyes fell on it. She smirked.

He flexed the tight pucker of his asshole, and she watched it open wide and clench tight again.

He did it again.

And again.

And again.

The heat between her legs was growing, and the urge to put something inside him again was rising in her again.

So she slipped a finger in. It went in easily. He groaned, his back arching and pushing against her.

She slipped two in, then three, stretching him out with every thrust she made. She had never slipped in more than three. But she wanted to stretch him out, wanted to see that bruised little hole gaping wide for her, leaking with cum.

So she drove a fourth finger in, using some lube to help her now, and Rhys gasped out a startled breath.

“Feyre.” The word was tight, tense.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, even though she knew he would use his safeword if he needed to. But just in case, she reminded him. This started and ended with him. He only had to say the word.

“No,” he said, his hand stroking his dick now. She didn’t chastise him for it, instead curling all four fingers in him.

He gasped, trying to buck into his hand and back onto her at the same time.

She flexed her fingers inside him, still trying to work him open.

“I’m going to put my whole hand in your tight little ass.”

“ _Feyre—_ ” His hand jerked faster, and he drew in a sharp breath.

“I’m going to stretch out this pretty little ass. You’re going to feel me for days,” she said, as she slid in a final finger, her whole hand inside him now.

He gasped, and his body went taut and loose as she slowly, so slowly, started moving her fist in and out of him in small, shallow movements.

“Fuck,” he swore. “Fuck. _Fuck.”_

She smiled to herself as she kept moving in him, watching his hole engulf her hand, her tightly clenched fist. With her other hand, she stroked lightly down his wing.

“Do you feel me inside you?” she asked, curling her fingers inside him.

He was panting so hard she thought he would pass out. “Feyre.”

“Do you feel my hand deep inside you? I can feel how warm you are, how soft you are here.”

He bucked into her, swearing again.

She flexed her fist inside him the next time she thrust, and he came with a hoarse cry, spilling onto the floor again.

He slumped onto his stomach afterwards, uncaring of the wetness beneath him. She withdrew her hand from him, and watched breathless, as his now stretched out hole gaped for her. It looked so filthy and erotic, she felt herself growing unbearably wet.

“Forgetting something?” she asked, jerking her chin towards the sticky mess of him on the floor.

His eyes were wide, blown with lust, and she raised her brows. “I told you that you would eat your own cum from now on. Now lick it off the floor. Don’t miss any.”

There was nothing but dark, dark desire and lust in his eyes as he turned over on his stomach, his chest against the floor, and pressed his face to the floor and licked up his own sticky release.

When he was done, he stayed on the floor, though he turned his head to look at her. Feyre had a hand between her legs, and she was rocking back and forth on it as she watched him. A moment later, she came with a sharp gasp, and when the shuddering waves of pleasure had faded, she reached for him, and kissed him, slow and gentle.

“You were so perfect,” she breathed.

“So were you,” he said, resting his head against her chest.

She stroked a hand through his hair, pressing light kisses to his neck. “I love you.”

He hummed in response, and she whispered into his skin as she kissed him again, and again, “Let’s get into the bath. I’ll wash you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Send me prompts/comments, or just drop in say hi at my tumblr @rhysandswhore


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